Late for Dinner
by citriana
Summary: After a little Quidditch training, Oliver takes matters into his own hands.


Oliver stood next to the panelled wooden bench, one leg up so he could scrape the mud off his flying boots. Although the fall from his broom had been less than one metre, it still had managed to do a lot of damage to his clothes. You could barely see the red and gold underneath the mud which had splattered all over him. He slopped another handful off, chucking it into the basin next to him. It was no use using _Scourgify _when he was this muddy - the spell wouldn't work properly with this amount of mud.

He scraped off most of the mud, then pulled off the sodden clothes and threw them into a heap on the floor, so he was standing in only his snitch-patterned boxer shorts, which clung to him, also soaked through. He grabbed his wand, and pointed it at the pile, casting the cleansing spell twice to ensure they were clean enough to be washed properly later without staining the rest of his clothes. Then, he scooped them up and threw them into his bag, grabbing his change of clothes out as he did. He was bent over searching for his soap when he heard Charlie enter.

He wasn't that hard to miss really. The first thing he said upon entering was "Hey, there, cute butt. See you got cleaned up without me?"

It fucked with Oliver's head sometimes. Charlie was like this with everybody. He'd hit on anything with a pulse, but he'd never seen him actually go on a date or anything. Perhaps everyone else thought he was kidding as well.

The only thing was, Oliver sometimes hoped that Charlie meant it when he said stupid stuff like that to him. Which was completely stupid. There was no way Charlie actually meant it. He was Quidditch captain, and star Seeker of the team. A 7th year with a brilliant career all planned out next year, no doubt. Whereas Oliver was in his 5th year, and only then because he'd been put up. He was young, and naïve. Not to mention he was a guy. So far, he hadn't heard that it was the fashion for all star gorgeous Quidditch captains to shoot for guys 3 years younger than them.

"Now, darling don't be like that! Talk to me!" Charlie came right up next to Oliver, and pressed his hand against the younger boy's back. "Or at least lemme borrow your shampoo." Oliver smiled weakly at Charlie, then handed over the bottle, and watched him head into the steaming communal shower, dropping his towel to the floor as he did.

His mouth fell open involuntarily, only to be quickly snapped shut when the beaters, Paul and Daniel, came out of the showers, towels wrapped around their waists. They were followed by the only male chaser on the team, Jason. They all stared at Oliver, who was wearing only his soaked boxers, his extremities still caked in mud.

"Um, Oliver?", Jason asked, "You gonna shower or what, man? It's dinner in half an hour."

Oliver nodded. "Sure, Jase, just, uh, forgot the time." The other three shrugged and turned to get changed, leaving Oliver to peel off his boxers, and drop them on the floor. He paced into the showers, letting the steam hit him as he tried to find the nearest shower head.

Not really looking where he was going, he ended up right next to Charlie, whose head was leant back, to let the water hit his forehead, letting the stream trickle down his neck, sweeping across his chest. Oliver gulped, and forced his eyes higher, then away, to stare at the opposite wall. He let the water engulf his head as well, wiping all the sweat and mud away.

He felt Charlie nudge him, and turned his head towards the older boy.

"You want some shampoo, sweetie?" Charlie asked, waving Oliver's own shampoo at him. Oliver chuckled lightly and reached for it. He squinted some into his hand, then worked it through his hair, turning so the water was blasting against his chest. He felt Charlie's eyes on him, even though his own were closed. After rinsing the shampoo out he placed it on the floor between them, looking back up to see Charlie staring down at him.

"You alright, sweet cheeks?" Charlie teased. Oliver looked away from Charlie as he stood back up, his cheeks flaring uncontrollably. He sighed, and chose to ignore him as he worked soap around his torso.

Charlie stood, watching Oliver in confusion. "Honey, did I say something wrong?" Then Oliver snapped. He turned swiftly back to Charlie.

"Listen. I'm sick of you calling me honey and sweetie and cutie and all that shit. Don't say that stuff unless you mean it. Leave everyone alone ok, I think we're all pretty tired of it. Go find a bloody girlfriend to call sweet cheeks, ok?" he spat, before spinning back around, and rinsing off the soap as quickly as he could. Charlie stood behind him, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry Oliver. But, um, what do you mean, everybody?"

Oliver didn't even turn around. "You say the same shit to everyone, hitting on anything that moves. And it gets bloody tiring is all I'm gonna say."

"I don't know what you mean. I call everyone babe, but that's just a force of habit. Oliver - um -" he paused, and bit his lip, "You're the only one I call anything else."

Oliver paused, but then said back angrily, "Well it still doesn't mean fuck all. So just drop it. Alright?"

Charlie stood behind Oliver and sighed. "Oliver, I'm sorry. I didn't know it meant so much to you. I'll stop, then. Just - " he went to reach for the other boys hand, but then let it fall back, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"Just what?"

"Just - well, it did mean something." Charlie said, so quietly is only just registered over the splattering of the water. He watched as Oliver's back tensed up, and bit his lip again.

"What did it mean?" Oliver asked softly, coming back to face Charlie, looking right into his eyes. His expression was unreadable, only registering a deep sense of imploring.

Charlie felt his heart race even harder than it ever had on the Quidditch pitch, and swallowed. _Bite the bullet, just tell him._

He stared down at the floor as he blurted his confession. "It meant . . . it meant that I like you. I want to be able to call you some of those things in earnest. Not in just a joking way. But I can't."

Oliver stood, dumbfounded by what he had just heard. "You what?"

"You heard me" Charlie muttered, "Now if you don't mind, I'll just go."

"Don't." Oliver said clearly. "Don't."

Charlie looked up into Oliver's eyes again.

"Just - stand still." Oliver said, before filling the space in between them, standing right next to Charlie. He leant in further, and brushed his lips lightly against the older boy's. Charlie was still for a moment, but then responded by grabbing the back of Oliver's head, and deepening the kiss, thus fully closing the gap in between them. Their tongues and groins rubbed against one another in unison as Charlie lead Oliver back against the wall, before parting the kiss briefly.

"Do you mean it? Do you want this?" he asked breathlessly.

Oliver grinned, then replied, "More than fucking anything", crushing his lips against Charlie's once more. However, the kiss was broken by Charlie, who began to messily kiss his way down the younger boy's muscular torso, making him arch into him. He chuckled lightly, then worked his way up to kiss Oliver's neck fervently.

Oliver moaned and slid his hands all over Charlie's back, and then down to his arse. The older boy responded by sliding his hand between the two, then down to meet Oliver's half-hard cock. Oliver moaned again, louder this time, and writhed against Charlie's palm as he worked it against the base of his groin.

Both their chests heaved in unison as Charlie began to work his hand up and down Oliver's cock, swiping his thumb across the tip as he did. He felt Oliver become harder in his hand, until he was as hard as rock, and thrusting into his palm. He pumped harder and faster, leaning up to claim the younger boys mouth. Their lips danced across one another, not quite meeting, but instead just panting into each other's mouths.

Oliver's breathing got more and more erratic, his body tensing up. Charlie knew he was close, so he leant down, parting their lips, so his head was directly in front of Oliver's cock. He slowed his hand slightly, but immediately replaced it with his mouth, which he slid the entire way down and around his length.

He let his lips meet the base, forcing the tip of it into his throat, then sucked his way back up, then swiftly down. He gripped Oliver's arse as he felt the cumshot hit the back of his throat, and kept sucking until Oliver's hips stopped shaking, and he began to go limp. He let him out of his mouth with a wet popping noise, then hungrily kissed his way back up to Oliver's lips. He kissed him deeply, but not forcibly, holding his chest to him.

"Charlie" Oliver whispered when their lips parted, "That was fucking amazing. Here -". He tried to slide his hand between them, to thank Charlie, but the older boy stopped his hand.

"I'm honestly fine just doing it to you. But I'm not far off if you wanna watch?" Oliver nodded excitedly. Charlie smirked, then rolled off Oliver, and began to wank himself off, feeling Oliver's eyes roaming all over him. He glanced over at him, then chuckled.

"Well, if you're gonna be that eager -" he pulled Oliver closer, then whispered hungrily in his ear, "Suck it. I wanna see your pretty face sucking it down, deep into your throat." Oliver grinned, then knelt down so as to comply.

He licked and sucked and nibbled, egged on by Charlie's moans of "Oh, that's so good, honey" and "Sweetie, your fucking tongue", along with a varied mixture of incoherent moans. He came soon after, pulling his cock out from Oliver's mouth, his come spurting all over Oliver's cheeks and dribbling down his chest.

He sank down to the floor, holding Oliver in a loose embrace. They panted together, lying against the wall.

"We're gonna be late to dinner." Oliver whispered.

"Fuck dinner" Charlie said, a bold statement for a Weasley.

"No, fuck me." Oliver said teasingly.

Charlie grinned, then kissed him again. "Maybe later, cutie."


End file.
